


Fairytale of Staten Island

by mnemosyne



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:51:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne/pseuds/mnemosyne
Summary: Prompt: Carisi takes Barba home for the holidays.Summary: Carisi takes Barba home for the holidays and predictably, both of them have Feelings.This is a gift for everyone in the Barisi Gift Exchange 2017. Merry Christmas, one and all.





	Fairytale of Staten Island

On the second day of their holiday, Sonny finds Rafael staring down at their bed, an intense expression on his face.

It’s either his cop - or his only male sibling - instincts kicking in, but something makes him stop in the doorway, slow in the drying of his hands on one of his mother’s fanciest guest towels, and study the scene before him.

Rafael’s hands are tucked deep in his pockets and he’s rocking slowly back on his heels. The only indications that he knows that he isn’t in a courtroom is the shirt which hangs half loose out of his trousers, the tie that’s hung carefully on the bedpost. His lips are pursed, thoughtful. Sonny has seen that look at thousand times before. It’s the look that Rafael gets when he’s running his mental forensics team over a particularly tricky bit of evidence.

Sonny loves that look.

Right now though, Sonny frowns, shifts his weight from one leg to another, trying not to let Rafael know that he’s being watched as he cranes his neck to look at whatever it is that he’s considering so deeply.

“Stop examining the scene,” Rafael says mildly. Sonny freezes, and his neck complains bitterly at him about the awkward position in which its currently being held. “I can hear you _detectiving_. _”_

“That’s not even a word,” Sonny replies, walking over. Rafael still hasn’t turned round, so Sonny puts his hands on his waist, resting his wrists against Rafael’s forearms.

“That’s not even the point,” Rafael replies. “ _Look_.”

His head nods so sharply that Sonny has to jerk back to avoid being hit and retaliates by smacking one hand lightly against Rafael’s waist.

The bed stretches out before them, the pristinely polished bedposts, the meticulously fluffed pillows, the beautiful cream blanket set, only slightly marred by the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bedspread that somebody _definitely Teresa_ has folded up ever so carefully at the foot. Leonardo’s face is regarding him mockingly as Sonny desperately tries to figure out what he’s supposed to be looking at. His eyes land on a small doll, her vibrant pink hair half-shaved to a stickled scalp.

“The doll?”

He can _feel_ Rafael rolling his eyes.

“It fell out of my jacket,” Rafael says.

Sonny rests his chin carefully on Rafael’s shoulder. “ _Counselor_ ,” he drawls, “I may be risking a torrent of erudite but cutting remarks about my choice of profession here, but I’m not sure why a stray doll in a house which has – “ he pauses – “ _seven_ children in it right now could possibly be a cause for concern.”

Rafael turns around, a manoeuvre which again sends Sonny a little off-balance attempting to not be caught in a whirlwind of apoplectic ADA-on-holiday. His eyes are a little wild.

“ _It was in my jacket pocket,”_ he all but hisses. Sonny shrugs.

“And?”

Rafael huffs, like Sonny’s being obtuse on purpose just to get under his skin. Which is hardly fair, because Sonny _never_ tries to rile him like that. He much prefers swooping in elegantly and scoring his points from the high ground.

“And how did it get there? I have been avoiding-“

“Hiding from.”

“ _Avoiding_ all the sticky-fingered suit destroyers.” His eyes narrow slightly. “You didn’t tell me there would be that many of them.”

Sonny shrugs and picks up the doll. He waves it gently in Rafael’s face, and it’s a testament to the _don’t snitch, snitch_ Carisi family dinners in which a young Sonny Carisi kept a lot of secrets for the sake of both his sisters and his poor bruised shins that he doesn’t burst out laughing at the despair that’s printed all over it. “You face down rapists and pedophiles and murderers all the time and you’re brought down by a _doll?_ ”

The stare turns withering. Better.

“It looks like one of Cris’s,” Sonny says. “She’s going through a hairdressing phase.” He waves the doll again. Rafael bats his hand away. “Kids are fast. Maybe she was just entranced by the brightness of your suit jacket.”

“It’s cream, not fuschia.”

“It’s a suit jacket at a family hangout is what it is.” Sonny tugs the remainder of Rafael’s shirt free. “You realise you’re the only one here who’s so much as looked at a tie today?”

“I figured I’d stand out,” Rafael says, voice flat, as if he’s barely heard Sonny at all. He reaches out, takes the doll from Sonny’s fingers, turning it round with a considering expression, all the fight in him receding in favour of something else, something that Sonny isn’t sure is an improvement. “You know me.”

Rafael’s free hand has snaked its way around Sonny, fingers curling, almost childlike, in the back of his shirt, and the younger man is suddenly very aware of how close they are; he can almost feel his heart beating, the barest half-rhythm off his own.

“I do know you,” he says, gentle, leaning just slightly so that he knows Rafael can feel his breath on his cheek. Though he has never admitted it, Sonny knows that Rafael loves this casual closeness, so at odds from the shields and walls he stands behind all day every day of the week. Rafael’s eyes flutter shut, just as Sonny knew they would. The doll is still clenched firmly in his fist.

“So you want to tell me the real reason why you’re acting like an alien?”

Rafael’s eyes fly open again. “I am-“

Sonny kisses his nose.

Rafael scowls. “ _Not_.”

“A little bit you are,” says Sonny and kisses him again. Rafael makes a small _harrumph_ of protest, but no move to step away. He sighs heavily.

“Everyone’s been very friendly,” he says, low and quiet. “Shaking hands, clapping shoulders, all the _kissing_ …” his voice trails off, and he leans further against Sonny. There’s a shift, and Sonny can feel rather than see the half-smile, a confessional whisper of embarrassment, that is working its way to crossing his face. “It’s a little overwhelming, that’s all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sonny says. Rafael stiffens, but Sonny holds firm. “It’s a _lot_ overwhelming. Eight months in and you’re going toe to toe with Great Uncle David about the finer points of constitutional law whilst my mom tries to feed you your third helping of potatoes and your valiant, charming boyfriend is fending off triplets very determined to braid your hair? Which, you know, you’re welcome for, by the way.” He strokes the line of Rafael’s hip with one thumb. “You’ve been amazing.”

There’s a breath that lies somewhere between a laugh and a snort into his shoulder, and Sonny grins back in reply. A sharp poking pain in his side reminds him that Rafael still has hold of that damn doll.

“You should all come with a health warning,” Rafael grumbles.

“Yeah,” Sonny agrees. “Too much exposure to the Carisi family and you’re in serious danger of actually relaxing.”

Rafael grimaces, but Sonny knows him well enough by now to recognise the lightness in the crinkles around his eyes that belies his grouchy tone. “ _Exactly.”_

“Seriously though, Rafi, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable here. It’s Christmas. We can go.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Sonny wants to take them back. Too easily, they fell far too easily, far too quickly and the scariest part is that he means them. That for the man in his arms right now, he’d march downstairs right now and kiss his mother on the cheek, hug his father and wave at all the friends and relatives spilling out of every room as he packed their bags. They’d get in the car, head straight back to Manhattan, or maybe out, out further to a hotel or a house or somewhere else just beyond phone signal where it would just be the two of them, and Christmas would be nothing more than Sonny and Rafael, the curl of a warm blanket, the clink of a beer bottle against his own, and far more contentment than surely he could ever deserve. He blinks, and before he can say anything, do anything, swallow a clarification that he would never have meant anyway, he’s stilled by Rafael raising a hand, tapping a the rough bristles of a small plastic head against the side of his cheek.

“No,” he says. “That’s the thing. I don’t _want_ to leave. Isn’t that terrifying?”

From another room, Sonny can hear someone start singing, a pretty melody that rapidly loses its tune as more and more people join in. He looks down, meets warm, dark eyes and he’s sure that he can feel his whole soul fill with understanding.

“Yeah,” he says. "Yeah, it is."


End file.
